


Stolen Time

by Lady_Vibeke



Series: Cara Dune & Din Djarin: Tales of Two Space Idiots in Love [40]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Heart-to-Heart, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Missing Moment from S02E04, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Reunions, Stolen Moments, Touch-Starved, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unspoken Love Declarations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27646147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Vibeke/pseuds/Lady_Vibeke
Summary: She carries herself confidently, walks the way soldiers walk—straight back, chin up—but the slow, inevitable swinging of her hips and the lower cut in her shirt collar seem to want to remind people she's a woman and proud of that. Din didn't really need a reminder: he has very clear memories of what she looks like under that armour, courtesy of the couple of nights she spent with him on the Crest a while back.“The Nevarro sun looks good on you,” he says, watching her lips stretch and curl before she gives his arm a playful swat.“I've never heard so much gallantry from that grumpy mouth of yours. What's up with you?”Din missed this—her humour, her ability to dig up a brighter side of himself he didn't even know he had. He missesherand everything about her, and she probably deserves to know, so he tells her.“I guess I just missed you.”[ The few precious minutes they deserved to spend together before the mission in The Siege. ]
Relationships: Din Djarin & Cara Dune, Din Djarin/Cara Dune
Series: Cara Dune & Din Djarin: Tales of Two Space Idiots in Love [40]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709416
Comments: 19
Kudos: 110





	Stolen Time

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for S02E04, proceed with care!

They have an hour while Greef organises the transportation and hands out orders—an hour that would feel like forever, normally, but today an hour feels like it's nothing at all.

“Let's go to my place,” Cara suggests after they leave Greef with Myhtrol. “I'll let you get a shower. You kinda need it.”

Her humorous tone warms him up from the inside, spreading some light over his heavy heart. His worry for the kid is momentarily dimmed by the infectious radiance of Cara's smile. Din is not sure what happened—if he just missed her or she actually _is_ different—but she looks even more beautiful than he remembered. Perhaps it's just the stability she has found here, or the sun kissing her face, bringing out freckles Din never noticed before. He can't tear his eyes off her: everything about her oozes confidence and self-contentment, as though she's always been here, in these streets, with these people who watch her pass and greet her and call her name with big smiles painted on their faces, and the way Cara greets back, almost blushing, feels a bit like a defeat to Din, feels like it puts further distance between them, one that has nothing to do with space and light-years. She looks like she _belongs_ here, and it's not that Din isn't happy for her, but the lack of a belonging was one of the things that drew them together in the first place, and how he feels like she has found herself a better option than following a bounty hunter across the galaxy.

He tries to look at her through these people's eyes and what he sees is a beautiful, strong woman walking among a crowd of friends... at home.

“Miss Marshal! Miss Marshal!”

Cara halts in the middle of the crowded street and turns around to find a little girl running toward her, pigtails bouncing on her back. A broad grin spreads at once across Cara's lips.

“Hey, Thailee.” She crouches down in front of the child and gives one of her pigtails a gentle tug. “Didn't we have an agreement about this Marshal thing?”

The girl's eyes widen as she clasps her hands over her mouth. “Sorry, Cara!”

“It's okay,” Cara laughs. “Can I help you with something?”

The girl offers her a half toothless grin, “My mommy wants to know what cake you'd like this week.”

“She's making me _another_ cake?”

The girl takes Cara's face between her hands and, to Din's shock, Cara doesn't pull away.

“She says she's making you cakes for forever because you saved my daddy,” the girl chirps cheerfully.

Din watches in fascination as Cara ducks her head, a touch of sheepish blush appearing on her cheeks. She takes the kid's hands into her own and says, “Tell your mother everything she makes tastes amazing.”

The girl—Thailee, if Din got her name right—suddenly looks up at him with that cute, blatant stare that only children can get away with. She must have never seen a Mandalorian before, judging by how curiously she's studying every single piece of his armour.

“Who's he?”

“Oh.” As if she just remembered he's there, Cara stands and turns to Din. “This is my dear friend Mando,” she conveys. The hand she puts on Din's shoulder seems to burn through the beskar of his pauldron.

Thailee scrutinises him carefully for a long while, her amber eyes scanning every inch of him from head to toe. “He's big,” she comments eventually.

It nearly makes Din laugh. Cara does laugh, and nods in agreement.

“And very strong.”

“Strong enough to beat you?” Thailee asks, eyeing Din like she already knows the answer and it definitely isn't flattering to him.

Cara shoots him a mischievous chuckle. She's enjoying this and Din couldn't bring himself to feel offended if he tried. They will settle this issue, sooner or later: they've been stuck in a draw since Sorgan.

“No,” Cara smirks, her arm folding around Din's shoulders as she leans against him and sympathetically pats his chest, “not that strong.”

Thailee asks another string of nosy question Cara answers with remarkable nonchalance; Din's heart misses a beat when she says, “No, he's not my boyfriend. I don't even like him. I'm sure he doesn't like me, either.”

And she looks back at him with a smile that could outshine the desert sun, and suddenly Din forgets what was being said and what he's supposed to do. He had forgotten Cara Dune can do this to people.

He stands by her while they watch the little girl rush back into the crowd and they laugh together when they hear her shout _'Mommy, I met the Marshal's boyfriend!'._ A woman in a beautiful blue and yellow robe cranes her neck over a young boy's head to cast a curious glance toward Cara, to which Cara replies with an awkward wave, and for some reason Din finds himself doing the same. The woman waves back and _winks._ Din shakes his head at Cara's apparent mirth about this whole situation.

“Looks like you've made yourself at home,” he says as casually as he can, even though the mere sound of it stings like a chain of thorns around his heart because of the part he's holding back: she's made herself a home in a place away from him.

“It's not that bad around here, once you get used to it.” Cara shrugs, kicks a rock out of the way. “Feels good to be useful and keep the town safe.”

She carries herself confidently, walks the way soldiers walk—straight back, chin up—but the slow, inevitable swinging of her hips and the lower cut of her shirt collar seem to want to remind people she's a woman and proud of that. Din didn't really need a reminder: he has very clear memories of what she looks like under that armour, courtesy of the couple of nights she spent with him on the Crest a while back.

“The Nevarro sun looks good on you,” he says, watching her lips stretch and curl before she gives his arm a playful swat.

“I've never heard so much gallantry from that grumpy mouth of yours. What's up with you?”

Din missed this—her humour, her ability to dig up a brighter side of himself he didn't even know he had. He misses _her_ and everything about her, and she probably deserves to know, so he tells her.

“I guess I just missed you.”

He feels like it means more than it sounds, that he's saying more than intended. He doesn't want her to read too much into it, because she _will_ find more, and he just can't bear to have this talk now that they only have this short mission ahead before they part ways again. He will never be able to leave if they start unveiling all they've been leaving unspoken all this time, so he tries to change the subject.

“How have you been doing?”

“Fine, I think.” She bites her lower lip, like she's torn about what she's about to say, then sighs, “I've been worried.”

“About what?”

She looks at him with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

“Your old carcass and that green kid, you dumb idiot!”

Din stops abruptly. Cara ends up bumping into him while he turns to her and she would lose her balance if his reflexes weren't quick enough to make him grab her elbows and spin her around to let hang onto his arms and pivot upon his weight. She slowly regains her balance, but neither lets go of the other, so they just stand there, gazes locked together, Din's hands curled under Cara's elbows and Cara's hands on his chest, and it's such a pathetically cliché pose they just find themselves bursting out into a nervous giggle that still doesn't wipe away that lingering feeling that something _should_ happen.

Before he knows, on their own volition Din's hands move to her hips, and when she starts moving back, instead of letting go of her, he draws her closer to himself. He doesn't even have a chance to regret it: as soon as her hips are flush against his, he feels a spark of electricity ignite deep under his skin. His hands clench upon her sides and what began as an automatic reaction quickly grows into an instinctual possessive grip he's almost— _almost_ — ashamed of. She isn't his, but he's hers—he's been hers since their very first encounter and just thinking about leaving her again is painful. He needs to try to stay away from her as far as possible, for his own sanity, but how could he step away from her now that he had her so close?

“I wish we had more time to talk about this,” he murmurs, because it's all he has, right now, all he can offer: his own sorry, pitiful excuses. There are chances they're never going to have more time; there are chances he'll die trying to find the child's people and never will be able to return to her. He has nothing. _Nothing._ Not even an empty promise.

“About you being a dumb idiot?” Cara tries to joke. “We sure do.”

He seizes this opportunity to pull himself out of his own dark thoughts and hangs on to her joke, lets it drag him along into her light.

His hold on her hips eases just slightly, the tense muscles in his neck her shoulders relaxing until they don't hurt any more.

“So...” he tilts his head to one side allowing a soft smile to take over his face, _“Marshal.”_

“ _Don't,”_ she warns, but Din isn't as intimidated as he should. He _loves_ that grudgingly flattered expression on her face.

“It suits you. You're proud of that, I can see it.”

Cara scoffs, “Yeah, well, I had to do something with my life, and there were only so many positions I could apply for. I'm only good for kicking people's asses.”

Din, who has seen her open up and bloom before his own eyes from a hostile threat to a caring and valuable ally, isn't going to let her sell herself short. He bends a knee to nudge hers, attempts to let his smile get through to her as he replies, “I beg to differ.”

Cara shakes her head at him with a very badly concealed flattered grin. “Again with the gallantry. You must have missed me very much.”

 _'I have,'_ he says, or thinks he says, because he doesn't hear his voice utter the sound and Cara doesn't react. He opens his mouth the pronounce the words his mind has been whispering to him for so long, but Cara speaks before he has a chance to:

“You're leaving again after this shit, aren't you?”

The hint of sadness in her voice wounds him, and it's such an unexpected blow he can't help hanging his head, guilt heavy on his shoulders.

“I must.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“If the circumstances were different...”

He trails off, uncertain about how to continue. He doesn't even know what he wanted to say. If circumstances were different, everything would be easy: they could just go to her place and spend the whole night together, talking—spend the whole night together, _not talking_ —consider turning their lives into one single life and settle down here, get a place they could both call home, build _something_ together, maybe even have a—

He shuts his heart before the impossible thoughts swirling in his mind can set their roots somewhere he couldn't control them.

“Yes?”

Cara is looking at him, expecting him to continue, but the words have died in his mouth and the silence tastes bitter and it's hard to swallow. But he has to, for himself, and for her.

“Maybe after this over,” he says, “we can finally sit down and talk.”

Cara feigns an insufferable clueless expression. “Talk about what?”

His resigned sigh makes her smile; her smile pulls at his soul, at his whole body, igniting that feral, desperate yearning again. A yearning he can't give in to now, because it wouldn't be fair to either of them. Things like this deserve time, and they don't have any.

“You really enjoy driving me crazy,” he groans—almost laughs, really.

Cara hooks two fingers into his breastplate and gives a teasing tug. “You're cute when you get frustrated.”

Somehow, Din's hands have found their way to her hips again. It's like they're polarised, programmed to seek each other out, and if they're too close they just can't help being pulled together.

He has a confession to make. He owes her this, at the very least.

“When I walked down the ramp,” he mutters, unable to look at her, “and saw you—your smile... I'm sorry you couldn't see mine.”

He feels a pressure under his chin. He opens his eyes and realises Cara has curled a finger under his chin and is urging him to look up. All he sees in her is kindness and comprehension.

She says, “I _felt_ your smile.”

She doesn't leave him any time to bask in the softness of her eyes, in the relief of knowing she can still see him through his walls, whether they're made of beskar or plain human fear.

“Come on, now,” she pokes his side with her elbow to make him move, “We gotta hurry. Tick tock.”

They resume walking like nothing happened.

_Tick tock._

All Din can hear is the haunting echo of those two words, over and over, a reminder that they don't have forever and this thing between them, however powerful and stubborn, will have to be addressed, at some point. He only prays they both will get to that point safe and sound.

“Hey, Marshal?”

Cara stops. The glare she gives him says _'I'm gonna kill you,'_ but the dimples in her cheeks whisper about a smile she's trying—and not even very hard—to fight back.

Din takes her hands into his and squeezes, not sure about what he wants to say. There are too many things, many of which cannot be put into words—that's an art he never mastered, and the way Cara's eyes are looking into his, even through the visor, is making him lose his power of speech.

His fingers twitch with a need he cannot repress for much longer. His whole being is longing to pull her closer, to put his arms around her and, just for one damned moment, pretend it could be this simple, just a man and a woman and a world of possibilities ahead of them. It's just a dream, but it's all he has; one day, they'll find a way to work this out and give themselves a chance. Today is just not that day.

_Tick tock._

And she's gazing at him, waiting for him to speak; all he wants is to hold her—just for a moment, it's not much to ask... but he kind of knows it _is_ too much to ask.

“I expect you'll save one of those cakes for me when I get back,” he says.

Cara breathes out a soft laugh.

“You know what,” she rubs her thumbs on the back of his hands, regarding at him intently, “you get back in one piece and I'll make one myself.” She makes a pause, then opens her mouth and closes it again. She swallows whatever she wanted to say and instead says, “I'll be right here if you need me, okay?”

He already needs her, but he can't confess that. What he's going to face is his fight, and she's already risked enough for him and the child. If he's still alive when this is over, he hopes she'll still be waiting for him.

_Tick tock._

“I will find you,” he promises.

Cara nods as though she knew exactly what he means. She squeezes her hands tight, and Din squeezes hers.

 _'I will always find you,'_ he thinks, and for some reason he feels it's true. After all, the universe seems to have a way of bringing them back together, no matter how many times they part.

**Author's Note:**

> It's not that I didn't like this episode but it felt too rushed and too brief, they could have handled it very differently and let everyone have a few scenes of much deserved human contact before hell broke out. Call this a spite fic for the time we were robbed of.
> 
> This said, I was overjoyed to see Cara again, more gorgeous and badass than ever. Her radiant smiles and those little looks she and Din shared when they saw each other again warmed my heart. I'm sure it was very hot under Din's helmet. (Also, this Marshal Dune thing... too hot to handle.)


End file.
